


Nostalgia

by VitaLupum



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Future, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VitaLupum/pseuds/VitaLupum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim W.'s life begins to go a little right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

            Tim isn’t sure where he is when he wakes up in the hospital. Oh, he knows it’s a hospital, he’s seen enough, but why he is there he isn’t sure.

            When it is noticed he is awake, he is given a thorough medical checkup by doctors and then the police come to interview him about the last few years of his life. When, to his faint dismay, he can’t remember them, the police get angrier and angrier, and then when presented with his mental health history, more understanding until finally they leave him alone.

            When Jay comes to visit him, he sits on the end of the bed and professes to not remember Tim since they stopped hanging out in high school. Tim cannot say he remembers hanging around with Jay either, and when Alex comes in, disorientated, they remember that once, he moved away - and then nothing.

            When Jay’s Marble Hornets channel, which he does not remember starting, has only one video, entitled ‘End’, and his twitter account has been deleted, they chalk it up to being allowed a fresh start from whatever has taken their memory and go their separate ways.

* * *

            Tim can feel once more.

            He notices it first when he’s doing the washing up in his house and whistling. His whistling amuses him with its tunelessness, so he laughs, and continues, the whistling getting worse and worse as he laughs more and more.

            And then he realises he is laughing, and stops, the echo reverberating around his empty kitchen as he blinks owlishly.

            But he never laughs. He doesn’t know how; nothing makes him laugh.

* * *

            “You’re smiling.”

            Tim’s mother’s eyes crinkle at him over her drink, and he nods. She reaches out to adjust his tie and he bats her away, smiling even as he does it.

            “Mom, I’m twenty-five.”

            “And you’re still my little boy,” she says quietly, and he blushes, before reaching out to hug her. “Go get them.”

            He walks into the job interview with trembling legs and a little bit of queasiness. He walks out with a job.

* * *

            “Excuse me?”

            Tim looks up from the desk, and she is  _so_  perfect his breath catches in his throat and he coughs; luckily, he can pass it off as just swallowing a large part of the cereal bar he’s eating, and he nods frantically, trying to keep his eyes off of her curves and on her face.

            “Do you know how to work the photocopier?”

            “Sure thing,” he smiles, and as she smiles back, brown eyes glittering in the sunlight that filters in through the windows, he actually feels a little bit giddy. He takes the paper from her hands, and as they touch for a brief second his head spins.

            Fast forward six months, and she is curled up in his bed, fast asleep, red hair splayed out over his pillow, breathing gentle and slow. Tim looks back from the window where he is having a cigarette, and smiles.

            A lot makes him smile now.

* * *

            “Why can’t you commit?” she snaps at him, and he stares at her, mouth open, before storming after her as she stamps across the park.

            “What do you  _mean_ , commit? I have work, I’m sorry, I can’t switch shifts! Just come stay at mine!” he snaps, and she turns around, poking him in the chest with her finger.

            “You never want to come to mine because… you’re  _scared_  or something!”

            “It’s not like I’ve said I don’t want to be tied down!”

            She turns and storms off again, and he stamps his foot like a child. It hurts. Everything hurts. He just wants her to come back and to never leave him again. He’ll stay at her house forever if it’s in his power, which it isn’t, but she has to realise he loves her.

            “Come back!”

            She stops, and he doesn’t know what else to do, so he falls to one knee.

            “Please don’t leave me.”

            She turns, and sees him on one knee, and he feels a sudden nervousness that is overshadowed when he sees the love in her eyes.

            “…please?”

            She nods, and then she is in his arms and she is  _his_.

* * *

            “It’s a boy.”

            Tim stares at the tiny bundle in the midwife’s arms, and then at his wife’s tired, drained face.

            “The baby and her need rest, but you can hold him.” Tim takes the small bundle and looks into the sleeping face of his son, and he suddenly realises just how much love one human can feel. He never thought he’d feel this happy, but as he takes in every detail of him; the velvety eyelids, the pink skin, the tiny lips.

            He has never cried with joy, but now, as he lifts up a finger and strokes the baby’s cheek, he feels tears sliding down his face as he grins.

* * *

            “Daddy, daddy!”

            Tim scoops up Liam, ruffling his red hair, and swings him around.

            “Daddy, I took pictures of all my friends today!”

            “Well, you have to show me, squirt,” Tim grins, and David nods as Tim puts him down. His son is getting good with the camera - last week, at Tim’s thirty-ninth birthday party, he was the official photographer.

            “Look, Daddy,” he beams. “This is my friend James.” Tim nods, kneeling next to Liam. “And look, here’s the tree in the yard, my friend Katy took it so you can see me. And here’s my teacher…”

            “Hang on a minute,” Tim mumbles, and as he takes the camera, pressing the button to take him back to the picture of the tree, he feels a horrible, slow, inexorable wave of nausea wash over him.

            Behind his son, reaching from behind the tree is a figure.

            A tall, white figure.

            With stretching tentacles.

            And no face.

            Tim feels pain wash over him, a headache so bad he could scream, and then he faints.


End file.
